


i keep diggin' myself down deeper (i would've followed all the way to the graveyard)

by blackrose1002, BlackVultures



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Choking, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Dry Humping, First Kiss, First Time, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Morning After, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Pining, Praise Kink, Riding, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29969613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrose1002/pseuds/blackrose1002, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVultures/pseuds/BlackVultures
Summary: “Hey, Mr. Dalton,” he said when he reached the headstone, patting the top of it in greeting. “It’s been a while, huh?” He sat down on his butt in the grass, which was wet with evening dew, and leaned his back against cool granite. Cracking the bottle open, he took a healthy swig and almost gagged at the burn when he swallowed—hard liquor was never really been his thing, but it did make him feel warmer. Logically he knew that wasn’t what’s happening, but he took comfort in it anyway. “I don’t know if Jack came to see you before he left, but in case he didn’t... he’s gone. And I don’t know where he is, or when... if he’ll come home.”(A post Season 3 AU where Mac goes to visit Jack's dad... and gets a whole lot more than he bargained for.)
Relationships: Jack Dalton/Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 53





	i keep diggin' myself down deeper (i would've followed all the way to the graveyard)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I come bearing a GIGANTIC oneshot full of angst, feels, and porn, roughly in that order. ;) **Please heed the tags! Mac gets VERY drunk and admits to contemplating suicide, and while the sex he and Jack have is 100% consensual he is under the influence at the time. Additionally, this fic was written during the drought between Seasons 3 and 4, so the angst focuses on late S3 and not Codex. MacDesi is mentioned as an idea but never happened.** As always any mistakes are my own since I put this together, and we want to hear your thoughts! Enjoy! <3
> 
> (Title is from "Graveyard" by Halsey.)

Angus MacGyver was tired.

Both in the physical sense—he hadn’t slept for more than a handful of minutes at a time in the past three days—and in the sense that he felt like he had to fight for every inch of his life twice as hard as he normally would. And he knew part of the reason for that was the fact that his partner, Jack Dalton, was somewhere on the other side of the world hunting down a madman, without Mac there to back him up. It didn’t help that Mac had been hopelessly in love with him since their time in Afghanistan but didn’t figure that out until _after_ Jack left.

It was actually Jack’s replacement, Desi, who’d made him realize the feelings he’d been trying so desperately to push away—when she’d stood in front of him all decked out for a date with someone else, he’d expected to feel jealous because of the initial pangs of attraction he’d had... but no. Instead, he’d thought, _wow, I wish Jack was here so we could go out_ , and suddenly he’d had a revelation on his hands and no idea what to do with it.

And now... well, he was banged up and exhausted from their latest mission (to Montreal, of all places) and he just wanted someone to talk to. He knew anyone on the team would listen if he wanted to vent, but none of them listened the way Jack did. And since Jack never answered his fucking phone when Mac called... he found himself driving to a particular cemetery in Jack’s GTO after a stop at the liquor store. He remembered exactly where the big headstone memorializing Jack Dalton Senior was from the times he’d visited with his Jack, and he parked nearby, the silence and late-night darkness of the place enveloping him like an old friend once he cut the engine.

Grabbing the bottle of good whiskey he bought—Jack’s favorite—Mac got out of the car. He’d been driving the GTO ever since Jack left and while he knew Jack would give him hell for it once he got back, he just didn’t care. He didn’t even know if Jack was going to come back at all, so he decided a while ago not to worry about that. Slowly, he started walking toward the headstone, breathing in the cool air surrounding him—it was actually quite chilly and Mac didn’t bring a jacket with him, but again, he didn’t care. He was tired and everything hurt, and at this point he just wanted to rant while getting spectacularly wasted, and then he’d probably end up sleeping in the car since he wouldn’t be able to drive. As upset as he was with Jack leaving, Mac wasn’t going to leave his precious car alone while he took an Uber home.

“Hey, Mr. Dalton,” he said when he reached the headstone, patting the top of it in greeting. “It’s been a while, huh?” He sat down on his butt in the grass, which was wet with evening dew, and leaned his back against cool granite. Cracking the bottle open, he took a healthy swig and almost gagged at the burn when he swallowed—hard liquor was never really been his thing, but it did make him feel warmer. Logically he knew that wasn’t what’s happening, but he took comfort in it anyway. “I don’t know if Jack came to see you before he left, but in case he didn’t... he’s gone. And I don’t know where he is, or when... if he’ll come home.”

“Anything could happen out there and he’s... well, he’s not alone, but there’s no one with him who cares about him like I... like _we_ do. And even if he survives this... I’m not sure he’s gonna come home.” Mac took another sip of the whiskey. “He had to leave to hunt a ghost from his past, and he... he didn’t let me go with him,” he continued after a moment since Jack Senior couldn’t really reply. “And I think that’s my fault, because I really... I really fucked up, you know? There’s a reason I haven’t come here with him for a while.”

Mac felt tears burning his eyes and wanted to pretend they were from the whiskey, but he knew they weren’t. That thought is enough to make him take another drink. “My dad’s not like you. I mean... he’s not dead, but there was a time when he might as well have been. And when I found out he’d been controlling my life without me knowing it, I... I freaked out. Quit my job, went to Africa, the whole nine yards.” He chuckled bitterly, because baseball-related expressions were some of Jack’s favorites. “Left everything behind... including Jack. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he returned the favor.” His bruised ribs ached and stung in his current position so he shifted a little, sprawling his legs out in front of him.

“He shook my hand,” he whispered shakily, staring up at the light-polluted dark sky. “He shook my hand, and told me I was his good friend. I didn’t understand why that felt like he ripped my heart out and stepped on it until recently.” He sniffled a little and angrily wiped the tears that started streaming down his cheeks. “I thought... I thought it hurt because I thought we were more than that, you know? Partners, best friends, brothers in arms, not just... not just good friends who fucking shake hands when they say goodbye. But then...”

He paused for a moment to swallow another gulp of whiskey, shivering a little at the cold. “Then I realized that he was... he is even more than that to me,” he whispered, absently wondering how Jack’s dad would react to all that if he could reply. “He’s my... everything. The only thing that matters. Too bad I didn’t realize that before he left.” He went quiet for a moment, glanced at the bottle and realized it was almost half gone already.

“And you wanna know the worst part? I just _miss_ him,” Mac said, choking off a half-formed sob. “I’d give anything to talk to him for five minutes, even just on the phone. To hear his voice. And I know I’ve got friends, and a job that I love, and a partner to work with that watches my back... but none of it feels as good as it should without Jack here.” Another slug of whiskey and he closed his eyes, tipping his head back against the headstone and smiling ruefully. “I guess I get maudlin when I’ve been shot.”

As if on cue, his arm throbbed where he got shot during the latest mission. It was a through and through, nothing serious, but it still hurt. Technically he should be wearing a sling, but since he couldn’t have driven with it, he left it... somewhere, probably discarded in the house. He would fine, he didn’t need a fucking sling. “You know, I guess I... I should apologize for bothering you so late,” he said before letting out another bitter chuckle. “I just... it’s been a long few days, the mission was hard and went wrong about ten times... and I’m just so tired.”

“I’m so tired,” he repeated softly, glancing down at the bottle again where it rested on his thigh. He was depressed, and the thought was so startling he actually let out a slightly hysterical laugh. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time, not since he came back from the Sandbox and Jack went home to Texas. He’d showed up on Mac’s doorstep a few weeks later and it was like the world finally made sense again. He wondered idly if downing the rest of the whiskey would be enough to kill him, but decided at the most it would knock him out, and it wasn’t cold enough for him to freeze to death. “Christ, I’m pathetic,” he said, bringing the heel of his free hand up to dig it into his forehead, where he could feel a headache building. “Can’t go six months without somebody who’s forgotten I exist.”

His vision started blurring again and fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. “I tried calling him, he never answers,” he whispered in a tiny voice, hating how pathetic he was. “There was a time when he would always answer, even in the middle of the night. I know he’s busy and what he’s doing is important... but I don’t think he cares anymore. It’s... I’m not even that surprised about it, you know? Everyone always leaves because I’m too much, or... or not enough. He still lasted for quite a while.”

Another swig of the whiskey, and he was starting to feel it now. His limbs were going fuzzy, the pain from his wounds (and there were quite a few of them) practically nonexistent thanks to the alcohol. He wasn’t slurring his words yet, but that would come next along with clumsiness and sweaty hands. “I guess I should be happy with that... that I was able to get someone to stay for so long,” he said, hiccupping once, but mercifully the whiskey stayed where he put it. “But I’m not.”

He ran his hand through his hair, greasy and unkempt and so long it was past the collar of his shirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he showered or brushed his teeth. “Maybe I should just give up.” The whiskey was almost gone and Mac raised the bottle and swirled it a little, watching the liquid inside. “It’s not like anyone would truly miss me,” he said with a small shrug. “Sure, my friends would be sad for a while, but they’d get over it. And Jack...” He trailed off, sniffling again, staring at the sky. “He wouldn’t even notice. And I’m... so tired and everything hurts, so... why do I even bother?”

A noise startled Mac out of his pitch-black thoughts, but it took his drunken brain a moment to work out what it was amongst the ambient sounds of animals moving around and the far-away screech of highway traffic: a gasp. A sound only a human could make, and a moment later, the human who made it stepped out of the trees near Jack Senior’s grave... and Mac’s heart almost exploded in his chest.

It was Jack.

He looked as awful as Mac felt, the lines in his face deep with exhaustion and anguish, and his clothes had that wrinkled look they got after a long flight. He was just staring at Mac with these wide dark eyes, and his mouth was open but no sound was coming out... and that wasn’t right, because Jack was always talking. “You’re not real,” was what Mac said, his voice weak and brittle. His eyes drank in the sight of his partner even though he knew it was an illusion brought on by the whiskey. “This is nice, though. Seeing you. Even if you aren’t here.”

Jack—well, the image of him—took a few steps closer. “Mac?” he asked, his voice hoarse, and god, Mac’s mind was really out to get him today. “What... what are you talking about?”

“Wow, you even sound like him,” Mac chuckled, shaking his head. “Damn, I must be _really_ wasted for you to show up like that and seem so... real.” He leaned his head against the headstone behind him but tilted it enough to look at Jack. “Fuck, I miss you,” he breathed out, his voice cracking a little, and Jack’s eyes widened even more. “Jesus, you look just like him,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head again, but when he looked up the hallucination was still there. “Are you gonna haunt me now?”

Jack’s eyes flicked down to the bottle in Mac’s hand, and he took a couple of steps closer. The grass made soft sounds as it gave underneath his feet, and wow, this was a five-star trip. “Mac, I _am_ here,” he said slowly, voice gravelly, his beard and hair grown out longer than Mac had ever seen them, to the point where he sort of looked like a wooly mammoth. “Now tell me what you’re talking about with my old man.”

“If you’re in my head then you already know,” Mac countered, blinking his blurring eyes, felt more tears slip down his cheeks without his control. “You... you know how exhausted I am. You know I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

“Mac, no,” Jack choked out, and wow, he looked truly shaken up. “What are you—?”

“I see, you’re a version of him that cares,” Mac interjected, raising the bottle to his lips and letting the whiskey burn down his throat. “Makes sense since you’re made up by me.” He chuckled bitterly and held up his hand when Jack opened his mouth. “Nah, you... you’re in my head, you don’t get to interrupt me or argue with me.” His words started slurring a little, just like he thought they would. “Your hair’s longer though. Wonder why I’m imagining you like that.”

“Because you’re not imagining me!” Jack said, his voice going strident, rising in volume in a way that it rarely did. He dropped to his knees next to Mac and yanked the bottle of whiskey out of his grasp, some of the liquid sloshing out on to the ground. That didn’t matter, though, because the next thing Jack did was toss the bottle away, shattering it against another headstone. He put both hands on Mac’s shoulders and they felt... heavy and warm like they might... like they might actually be... “Mac, I promise you, I’m here. Right in front of you, right now. This is real.”

Mac stared at him, wide eyes shifting between Jack’s face and the shattered bottle. A... a hallucination wouldn’t be able to do that... right? “J-Jack?” he stuttered out, his voice barely a whisper. “Oh... oh god, I’m—” He squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly feeling dizzy, probably from the whiskey, and he trembled a little.

Jack tugged him away from his father’s headstone and into a hug, wrapping those muscular arms tightly around Mac’s lean (too lean, he hadn’t been eating much) frame. It made his ribs ache but he didn’t care, none of that mattered because Jack was _here_ , he was really here. The smell of gunpowder and leather that was permanently etched into Jack’s skin invaded Mac’s nose and he reveled in it, burying his tear stained face in Jack’s neck. His fingers twisted in the material of Jack’s shirt, and he let out a sob before he could get control of himself.

He felt one of Jack’s hands smooth up his back and into his hair, holding his skull like he was afraid Mac might shatter. He couldn’t really blame him for thinking that, Mac himself felt like he was about to fall apart into a million pieces. He didn’t bother holding back the sobs, his chest actually hurting from how violent they were, but he didn’t care. Everything hurt, his ribs, his arm, and a few other injuries he had, but Jack was here, he came back and at least for now he didn’t seem to hate Mac, so he clung to him even more, wanting to get as much of him as he could before he inevitably got pushed away.

“Mac, please,” Jack said after a moment, sounding... wrecked, which was surprising. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“Everything,” Mac whispered, and he knew he sounded melodramatic but he couldn’t help it, it was how he felt. “Everything’s wrong, and... and you always help me fix it. I’ve been trying to... to be okay on my own, but I don’t know how to do this without you.” He sucked in a harsh breath and whimpered when it hurt, clutching Jack as close as he could. “My dad has cancer, Charlie’s dead, I’m rattling around in my house by myself every night... I just can’t keep going.”

He heard Jack inhale sharply and he felt him trying to pull back, so he held on even tighter. “No, no, no, please, don’t leave,” he whimpered, pressing his face into Jack’s neck and breathing heavily, his ribs screaming in protest. “Please, I know I fucked up, and I know you hate me, and I’ve been driving your car, but please, stay. Please, I can’t—” Another sob ripped out of his chest, cutting him off and making his entire body hurt. “Jack, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t go.”

“Mac, hey, I’m not going anywhere,” Jack said, and if it was possible he sounded even more pained than he did before. “I just need you to look at me, okay? Can you do that?” He shifted the hand that was in Mac’s hair around so it was touching Mac’s cheek before he tried pulling back again and this time Mac let him, mostly because he was so stunned that Jack’s fingers were on his face. Even through the film of tears he saw the agony in Jack’s expression, and wondered what could have him so upset. “Listen to me. I do _not_ hate you—I don’t know what would make you think that, but there is nothing in this world that could ever make me hate you. As for fucking up, I think we’ve both done that, but it’s nothing we can’t work out. And I don’t care that you’ve been driving my car, Mac. My damn car is the last thing I care about, you always come first.”

Jack’s words shocked him enough that he stopped sobbing and he blinked a few times, wondering if maybe this was some cruel dream after all. “But... but you left,” he whispered, his voice small and pathetic. “I know you had to, but... you left me and you didn’t let me come with you. And you...” He paused, sniffling and feeling more tears roll down his cheek. “You didn’t even hug me. You just... left.” He felt himself tremble, because of the cold, or pain, or crying, or all of that. Thanks to the whiskey he didn’t have pretty much any filter left, so he kept talking: “And you—” he hiccupped a little “—you didn’t answer my calls, not even once. You don’t care about me anymore.”

Jack shifted a little in his grasp, and for a second Mac thought he was going to try and leave again, but instead he only took off his leather jacket. Draping it around Mac’s shoulders, he said, “Mac, I... I didn’t take you with me because I was scared. Kovacs is... _was_ a terrifying son of a bitch and I wanted you as far away from him as possible. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to protect you from him, that something would go wrong and it would be my fault.” He chuckled humorlessly. “And evidently something _did_ go wrong, it just wasn’t what I was expecting.”

He wiped the tears off Mac’s cheeks before pulling him into another hug, resting his cheek on top of Mac’s head. “I didn’t hug you because... I didn’t think that’s what you wanted. I thought you stayed here instead of going back to Nigeria because Murdoc killed Jill, not... not because of me or the team. And I didn’t want my last memory of you to be you flinching away from hugging me—in hindsight that’s dumb as hell, and I’m sorry.” His words were a low rumble in Mac’s ears, comforting in their familiarity. “And as for the phone calls... I should’ve picked up when I could, I know that. But... but I was afraid if I heard your voice soundin’ like it does right now, I would’ve said fuck it to the mission and got on the first plane back.”

Mac sniffled and closed his eyes, enjoying how warm Jack was and how good his jacket felt around his shoulders. “I thought I... that you finally realized you were sick of me,” he whispered, and he instantly felt Jack tense against him. “That you left, just like the others. I didn’t... I was sure you wouldn’t come back home, even if you didn’t get killed out there.”

Somehow Mac managed to keep at least one thing hidden from Jack for now and didn’t tell him that he was stupid enough to fall in love with him and not realize it for fucking years. But there was a small part of his brain still holding on and he knew that as lovely as this was, Jack was straight and even if he wasn’t, he would never be interested in Mac. He shifted a little in Jack’s arms and yelped when he accidentally jostled his shot arm, unable to hold back the sound of pain.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jack asked in alarm. He leaned back to look Mac over, his eyes almost immediately catching on the bandage that was wrapped around Mac’s upper left arm, just visible under the sleeve of his t-shirt. “What happened?”

“Got shot,” Mac mumbled, resting that arm in his lap so it didn’t flare up again. “It’s a graze. Desi has it worse, she got... she got hit in the thigh, I thought... I was putting pressure on it, but I was afraid it wouldn’t be enough.”

Mac wasn’t looking, but he knew Jack raised his eyebrows. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s at home, Riley’s with her,” Mac replied, letting out a tiny sigh when he felt Jack’s hand rubbing up and down his back. “So you really... you want to be here?” he asked, his voice small to his own ears. “With me?”

“Of course, Mac,” Jack murmured, pulling Mac back into a hug, although more gently than before. “I could never get sick of you, not ever, you hear me? I know you have no reason to believe me after everything I did, but I do care about you, Mac, so much.” His voice cracked a little. “I’m never gonna leave you again, I swear. I’ll take you with me if I have to leave, I promise you.”

Mac swallowed hard when he heard that and it sounded too good to be true, but... no matter how bad things were between them Jack never lied to him. And he did sound sincere, so Mac let this small flame of hope light up in his chest. “Okay,” he whispered, and he felt Jack relax fractionally, like he’d been holding his breath while waiting for Mac’s response. Something occurred to him and he sat up, shaking his head a little to try and clear some of the drunkenness away. “I’m sorry, Jack—you came here to see your dad.”

“Aw, that’s okay, I’m sure the old man understands,” Jack said, the barest hint of a smile turning up one corner of his mouth. “My next stop after this was gonna be your place, you know. Killed two birds with one stone.” And in true Jack fashion, he didn’t let the fact that Mac got injured slide to the wayside. “So what else you got, hoss? Because we both know it’s never just a gunshot wound with you.”

“I’m, um... my ribs are bruised and well, so is the rest of my body,” Mac said quietly, closing his eyes and trying to think through the fog clouding his brain. “We got captured and they beat us up and kicked around... but Desi got it worse. She tried to focus their attention on her, so that I could find a way out.” He couldn’t keep the guilt out of his voice because she got hurt really badly. “I tried to stop her, but she was stubborn. Said you’d kill her if she let anything worse happen to me.”

“Shit,” Jack muttered, and clearly he felt guilty too—for asking Desi to risk everything to keep Mac safe or for not being there, it was hard to tell which. He rubbed a hand over his mouth before he put it back on Mac’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “You wanna get out of here? Sitting on the ground getting drunk can’t be doing anything for your injuries.” He slid an arm through Mac’s good one and lifted, standing and bringing Mac with him, not at all phased when Mac stumbled and face planted into his chest. “I’ll leave my rental car, have somebody come pick it up.”

The world was kind of spinning when Mac glanced around, but that wasn’t surprising since he was really, really wasted. Jack used his grip on him to keep him steady and leaned down to touch the headstone with his fist, smiling softly, and Mac once again felt bad for taking a chance to talk to his dad away from Jack. “So, tell me, hoss,” Jack started, tugging him gently and slowly starting to walk in the direction of the GTO, making sure Mac didn’t trip over his own feet. “What exactly was your plan here, huh? You had to know you wouldn’t be able to drive.”

Mac’s eyebrows furrowed, because now that he had to focus on moving it was harder to understand words because, you know, he was shitfaced. “Thought I’d just sleep in the car,” he replied after a delay, squinting in Jack’s direction briefly. And since he had almost no self-control at the moment, his next words came out of his mouth unbidden: “I thought about driving it off a cliff but I figured you’d be mad if I wrecked your car.”

Jack suddenly stopped and grabbed Mac by his shoulders and tugged him so that he stood in front of him, and Mac’s world spun even more and he swayed on his feet. “Mac, please tell me you’re not being serious,” Jack said in a tight voice, his gorgeous dark eyes looking at him with so much intensity it was breathtaking. “And I don’t mean my car—god, Mac, if you’d done it, I wouldn’t have cared about my fucking car, I would’ve shot myself because you would’ve been dead.”

Mac’s mouth dropped open, and he was sure he looked like a dying fish. “What? Why would you—Jack, I’m not worth that.”

“Bullshit!” Jack snapped, and the force behind that single word would send Mac stumbling back a step in shock except Jack was holding on to him. “You’re worth _everything_ to me, Mac, and I’m sorry I haven’t made that clear. I wouldn’t know how to live without you, or live with myself knowing that you... that you did that and I wasn’t around to help you.” Mac blinked at him slowly, still too shocked to form any words. His stupid heart stuttered, because that sounded almost like Jack could feel Mac the same way Mac felt about him, but that was... impossible. “Mac, please,” Jack said quietly, bringing his hand up to touch Mac’s cheek and Mac leaned into his touch, too weak to resist it. God, Jack’s lips were so _pretty_. And so _close_. “Please tell me you didn’t actually want to... please.”

“Not... not really,” Mac admitted, and Jack let out a relieved sigh, pressing their foreheads together and shutting his eyes. It was too close and not close enough all at once, and Mac’s fingers curled and uncurled with the want to grab and touch even though he shouldn’t. “But I just... I think I was out of hope, you know?” he continued, aware that his breath probably smelled like turpentine but too far gone to care. “Until you showed up and I figured out I wasn’t just seeing things.”

“I’m never gonna leave you again,” Jack repeated the words he said earlier, holding Mac tightly, their foreheads still pressed together. “We’re gonna fix this, okay? You and I, we’ll figure everything out like we used to and we’re gonna fix this.” Jack’s voice was firm yet somehow pleading, and he was so close that Mac could feel his warm breath on his lips. God, it would be so easy to just lean in and... _no_ , he couldn’t think about that. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Mac felt himself smile a little, and it hurt his cheeks because it’d been a while since he had a reason to. “That’s a pretty tall order,” he murmured, and oh no, it was coming out flirty. “Are you going to follow me into the bathroom too?”

“I’ll follow you anywhere,” Jack whispered, and... oh, that sounded... sincere.

Incredibly sincere.

And then Mac was sure he must’ve passed out, because there was no way he was really feeling Jack’s lips pressed against his in the lightest kiss.

He froze because this couldn’t be happening and then he panicked when he felt Jack pull back and his lips were gone. “Shit, Mac, I’m so—”

Mac just whined, scrabbling at the front of Jack’s shirt and moving his hands up to grab Jack’s face and pull him in a sloppy kiss. He actually stumbled into Jack’s chest, swaying a little (fine, a lot), but it didn’t matter, all that mattered was that he was kissing Jack. Almost instantly he parted his lips, pushing his tongue into Jack’s mouth and he moaned loudly at how good it felt. “Mac, Mac,” Jack mumbled into his mouth, and Mac absently realized he tried to pull back, so he whined again and sucked on Jack’s lower lip. “Mac, wait.”

That was enough to get Mac to stop, and he pulled back enough to stare at Jack, panting slightly. “You kissed me,” he said dumbly, his lips still tingling, and he darted out his tongue to lick them and see if he could catch any of Jack’s taste.

Jack’s eyes followed that movement before he shook himself, clearly trying to focus. His hands came up to frame Mac’s face, and he pressed his lips to Mac’s forehead this time. “Yes, I kissed you,” he said, his voice trembling just slightly. “And I want to kiss you again, as many times as you’ll let me... but you’re drunk, Mac. And I’m not sure you’re in the right headspace for us to talk about our feelings. Which is something we need to do, because this ain’t just about kissing you.”

Mac felt himself smile widely and he wrapped his arms around Jack and hugged him tightly. “M’kay,” he muttered, pressing his face into Jack’s neck and kissing his skin, and was it just him or did Jack shiver? He meant to just press one soft kiss to his neck, but then he started nuzzling the skin below his jaw and pressed another sloppy kiss to his neck. God, he was _so_ wasted.

“Mac, come on,” Jack said, his voice sounding... strained for some reason. “Stop it.” Pouting, Mac pulled back to see Jack watching him with a fondly exasperated look on his face. “Stop blinking those pretty blue eyes at me like that, darlin’,” he muttered, wrapping his arm around Mac again and resuming their walk to the car.

Mac couldn’t stop grinning, loving the endearment, and when Jack gently pushed him into the passenger seat, he curled up there, wrapping Jack’s jacket around himself like a blanket, and wow, when did he start feeling so sleepy? He yawned, slumping down a little bit into the seat... and between one blink and the next they were in his driveway. He must’ve fallen asleep for the drive, which was probably a good thing because otherwise he might’ve gotten carsick. Jack wasn’t in the driver’s seat, but that got explained when he realized Jack was opening the passenger’s door.

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” Jack said, getting his hands underneath Mac’s arms and kind of hauling him out of the car. “You gonna barf on me?”

“Don’t think so,” Mac replied, leaning on Jack to stay upright, and together they made it into the house. Once the door was shut and locked behind them, Mac looked at Jack, still clutching the jacket around him like an old lady would hold a bathrobe. “You’re not... you’re gonna stay, right?”

A pained expression crossed Jack’s face and he stepped closer to wrap Mac in his arms again. He was warm against him, a human furnace, and Mac didn’t remember ever feeling as safe as he felt in Jack’s arms. “Now, what did I tell you? I’m not leaving you out of my sight.” Mac snuggled deeper into his embrace and closed his eyes, reveling in how amazing it felt.

Jack kissed the top of his head, burying his face in Mac’s hair for a moment. “You want a shower?” he asked quietly, giving Mac a gentle squeeze, mindful of his ribs. “It’ll probably help with tomorrow’s hangover.”

“Only if you come with me,” Mac bargained, tilting his head back enough to brush his lips against Jack’s bearded jaw. “Not for sexy reasons, but because I don’t think I can stand up by myself.”

Jack let out a quiet chuckle and pulled back, using his grip on Mac to lead his toward his bedroom. “Fine, if you say so,” he said, rolling his eyes when Mac grinned widely. “Don’t look so smug, baby,” he murmured as they walked into the bathroom. “No sex, I mean it.”

Mac stuck out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout. “Fine,” he grumbled, not resisting when Jack pulled the leather jacket off of him and tossed it on Mac’s bed so it didn’t get damaged by steamy water.

Speaking of the water, Jack turned it on to let it warm up while Mac attempted to take his shirt off, but between the bullet wound on his arm and his general inebriation it was almost impossible. He made a frustrated sound and Jack took pity on him, helping him pull the shirt off over his head... and then he got to see all the bruises it was hiding. He sucked in harsh breath and Mac looked up at him in surprise. Jack’s eyes were wide and trailing over the mosaic of bruises covering his chest and abdomen.

“Oh,” Mac said, shrugging a little. “Yeah, I... like I told you, I got pushed around a bit. And kicked around.” He paused, biting his lower lip and thinking. “And they hit me with a bat a few times. And I may or may not have a knife wound on my thigh.”

Jack made a choked-off sound that could be a laugh or a sob, it was hard to tell. “How do you maybe have a knife wound? It’s one or the other.”

“Well, it’s more like a scratch,” Mac said, and then his expression brightened. “Here, I’ll show you!” And without thinking about it he undid his pants and let them pool around his ankles—he was still wearing boots, which was a problem—so he was just standing in front of Jack in his boxer-briefs. And there was the bandage they stuck over his right thigh earlier, which he peeled off to reveal a line of stitches that traveled in a wide arc over the muscle. “See? It was shallow but it’s there!”

“Sweet Jesus, Mac,” Jack whispered, and his hands... trembled a little? “You don’t have to sound so fucking happy about it, you got really hurt.”

Mac frowned a little when he saw the look on Jack’s face and heard the tone of his voice—so strained and pained. The whiskey was really getting to him now, making him all giggly and light-headed. “I did.” He shrugged, smiling at Jack. “But thanks to that I can be sure you won’t leave! You won’t leave me when I’m injured.”

Jack’s gaze snapped to his face, and he took in a deep breath and blew it out again, like he was trying to stay calm. “Mac, we need to get something straight,” he started, then reconsidered the phrasing. “Or as straight as we can given the scenario, since literally nothing about this is straight.” He bent down and pulled Mac’s boots off his feet, then got his jeans the rest of the way off too, before straightening up and holding Mac’s face in his hands again, like he did back at the cemetery. “I am not going to leave you again, do you hear me? Not for anything. I don’t want to be anywhere but right next to you.”

Mac watched him for a moment, squinting when Jack’s face got all blurry, but all he saw was sincerity. “I’m... okay,” he whispered. “But I... I don’t remember the reasons why I shouldn’t believe you,” he said quietly after a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. “Can you... could you tell me all of that again tomorrow when I’m sober?”

Jack shut his eyes momentarily, and then leaned in to kiss Mac on the lips, soft and chaste. “I’ll tell you again tomorrow, and every day after that until you believe me,” he whispered, pushing Mac’s hair out of his face. “Now let’s get you in the shower, huh?”

Mac slipped off his underwear and got in, leaning against the wall for support while he waited for Jack to undress. He was just as gorgeous naked as Mac thought he would be, but it was hard to appreciate when the world kept tilting on its axis without warning. Soon Jack was there to hold him up, though, and the first thing he did was get Mac’s hair wet and started washing it for him.

“I think my hair stinks,” Mac muttered, and then he realized he was _purring_ as Jack scratched his scalp and combed his fingers through his hair. “And so does my breath. I... don’t remember the last time I’ve been here.” He actually glanced curiously around his shower cabin. When Jack shot him an incredulous look, he stuck his tongue at him. “I didn’t care, you know? Although I did think of taking a bath... easy to drown in if you take enough meds beforehand.”

The next thing Mac knew he was being pushed up against the wall of the shower again, one of Jack’s arms between his back and the tile so that it didn’t jostle his ribs. Jack crushed their lips together in a kiss that was hard enough to bruise, his other hand gripping Mac’s jaw like he was afraid he was going to disappear. “You don’t get to do that,” Jack gritted out when they broke apart, leaving Mac gasping and wide-eyed. The way Jack was looking at him, it was like _he_ was the one who got shot, and knifed, and kicked around. “You don’t get to leave like that.”

“I’m... I just... I didn’t think anyone would care, you know? You especially.” Jack made this wounded sound, looking at him with a wild gaze, and Mac rushed to say: “I thought you hated me! And that you just... forgot about me and didn’t care. But I know better now, I promise.” He swallowed hard, hanging his head when Jack still looked at him with pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Mac, _I’m_ sorry,” Jack said, and that made Mac look at him again, upward through his eyelashes. “I... I should’ve just told you how I was feeling when you came back from Nigeria. Maybe not that I was in love with you, but I shouldn’t have acted like I was fine without you when I really, really wasn’t. So part of that’s on me, and I’m sorry.” His thumb swept back and forth over Mac’s cheekbone, the water beating down against Jack’s back. “I know what it’s like to be in that kind of pain, to think that... that turning it all off is the only way out, but it’s not, Mac. That’s never the answer.”

Mac blinked at him, eyes wide in shock. “You’re... you’re in love with me?” he asked quietly, his voice small and vulnerable, but he barely noticed. “I thought... I mean... why? I’m a mess. Why would you love me?” He swallowed hard and then the other thing Jack said came back to him, so before Jack could say anything, Mac was talking again: “And what do you mean you know? How can you know what... what it’s like?”

Jack chuckled ruefully. “See, this is why I wanted to save the feelings talk for tomorrow,” he said, but that didn’t stop him from continuing, looking into Mac’s eyes like he was the only other person on earth. “I love you because you’re funny, and smart, and so gorgeous it makes my head spin. Because you always call me out on my bullshit and you never do what’s easy, you always do what’s right. And because...” He paused, swallowing hard, and to Mac’s astonishment there were tears in his eyes again. “And because you were the one who pulled me back from that edge a long time ago. I was miserable when I met you, darlin’—I would’ve thought it was obvious from the way I picked a fight with you.”

“I touched your rifle, now I know you don’t like that,” Mac mumbled before wrapping his arms tightly around Jack’s back and pulling him as close as possible. “I love you too, by the way. I’ve loved you for so long, I just... I didn’t know. But I can’t live without you, Jack. I don’t want to.” Even though everything was still spinning, Jack was steady in front of him, so he leaned in to press their lips together. He was still uncoordinated and he was kind of craving a burger right now, but Jack’s lips were a good substitute and so was Jack’s ass. Mac hummed in approval when he slid his hands lower to grope Jack’s ass, ignoring Jack when he tried to pull back.

“What’re you thinking about?” Jack asked against his mouth, dropping his hand from Mac’s face to put his palm on his chest and keep some space between them.

“Cheeseburgers,” Mac replied honestly, and smiled when Jack had to break the kiss to laugh. “Maybe some fries too... what’s open this late? Can we get food?”

“We can get McDonald’s?” Jack offered, taking a step back and turning Mac’s back to the spray to rinse the shampoo out of his hair, not complaining when Mac kept both his hands firmly planted on Jack’s ass cheeks. “We’ll order from one of those delivery services, okay?”

“Mhmm, okay,” Mac murmured, glaring at Jack’s hand on his chest. But he was smart and sneaky, so he waited until Jack was distracted and needed to use that hand to turn off the water and then Mac leaned in to mouth at Jack’s jaw, loving the beard. He squeezed Jack’s ass a little and moved his lips lower to nip on Jack’s neck, moaning as he imagined everything Jack could do to him, and there wasn’t much Mac would say no to.

“Jesus Christ, you’re unstoppable,” Jack muttered, but he didn’t sound upset. He did, however, wriggle out of Mac’s grip and away from his mouth, grabbing a big fluffy bath towel. He used it like a straitjacket, pinning Mac’s arms to his sides (mindful of his bullet wound) so he couldn’t reach out and grab for Jack while he dried off.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Mac exclaimed, pouting again and shaking out his wet hair like a dog would. “Do I have to ask you to fuck me or what?”

Jack choked and faltered a little as he wrapped a towel around his waist, much to Mac’s dismay. “Jesus, Mac, you can’t just say shit like that,” Jack said, glaring at him, and Mac just grinned in response. Jack walked up closer and tightened the towel around Mac to make sure he didn’t get free and then wrapped an arm around him and led him to the bedroom. “I’m not... that’s not happening tonight, Mac. You’re too drunk.”

“Jack,” Mac whined, pouting again. “What if I beg you? I’ve been told I look pretty on my knees.”

Jack’s step faltered and he almost fell over and took Mac with him, but righted himself at the last second. He turned and put both hands on Mac’s shoulders, one hand moving up to push Mac’s damp hair away from his face. “You’re beautiful no matter what you’re doing,” he said softly, and Mac felt his insides turn into jelly. “But the last thing I’d want is you kneeling on the floor when you’ve got a big slice across your thigh.” He kept one hand on Mac’s shoulder and reached with the other to grab his phone from where he’d tossed it on the bed. “Now, how much drunk food am I ordering?”

“A lot,” Mac said, and Jack rolled his eyes as he gently pushed him down to sit on the bed. “Lots of fries, a few cheeseburgers since they’re tiny there... you know the drill.”

Jack just laughed and dialed the number and then started walking around the room while he ordered. When he had his back turned to him, Mac smirked and plopped down on the mattress, ignoring the pain from his injuries, and a moment later he managed to get himself free out of that damn towel. Jack still wasn’t looking at him, so he tossed the towel aside and scooted up the bed, lying comfortably on his back. He spread his legs a little and wrapped his fingers around his cock, and while he wasn’t hard and he was drunk, he managed to get it half-hard and he kept stroking himself lazily, waiting for Jack to turn around.

When Jack _did_ turn around, he looked momentarily stunned, like a cartoon character who got hit with a shovel or something. Then he tossed the phone on the bed and crawled up Mac’s body, the towel wrapped around his waist keeping all the fun parts of him concealed. He leaned down and kissed Mac on the lips, licking his way into his mouth before he pulled back to whisper in his ear: “You don’t listen, do you?” His rough fingertips trailed down Mac’s abs, knocking his hand away and replacing it with his own.

Mac moaned loudly, loving how big Jack’s hand was and how good his fingers felt around his cock. “You know I don’t,” he said, feeling incredibly pleased with himself.

“You don’t have to sound so smug,” Jack muttered, but continued stroking him slowly and he moved his lips to suck a bruise into Mac’s neck.

“Oh, oh, Jack,” Mac moaned when Jack twisted his wrist, biting him a little harder, and he threw his head back, not even caring that the ceiling was spinning. His arms felt too heavy to wrap them around Jack, so he just laid sprawled on the mattress, his hips twitching up, and he let Jack do whatever he wanted. He was fully hard and aching in no time under Jack’s touch, and it was like the best kind of torture. Jack’s hand was stroking him just a little faster than when he started but it wasn’t nearly enough, and when he firmed up his grip and thumbed over the head Mac let out a high-pitched whine, his hips pumping harder into Jack’s hand. “Please, Jack, please,” he begged, knowing he sounded like a drunken slut and not caring at all.

And to his surprise... the begging made Jack slow down, and he lifted his head to stare at Mac with that dark gaze. “You wanna come, baby?” he asked, voice low and rough. “You think I should let you after you kept teasing me?”

Mac’s hips kept twitching helplessly, but Jack just flashed him a smirk, predatory and dangerous, and stilled his hand completely, tightening his fingers around the base of Mac’s cock. “Please, please,” Mac whimpered again, breathing heavily and staring up at Jack with wide eyes.

Jack just tilted his head and kept smirking at him. “Mhmm, not so fast, baby. I think I’m gonna have some fun with you first.” The smirk on his face was truly wolfish and then he leaned down to whisper in Mac’s ear: “You started a teasing battle with a wrong person.”

“Jaaack,” Mac complained, drawing out his name into a keen—and then he reached out quick as lightning and yanked the towel off Jack’s hips. He grinned when Jack gaped at him for a moment before he growled and pinched one of Mac’s nipples in retaliation. Mac groaned at that but grabbed on to his ass again and yanked him closer, grinding his cock against Jack’s thigh.

Jack was hard too and he groaned when his cock pressed against Mac’s hip. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily,” he growled, and grabbed Mac’s arm to get his hands off his ass and pinned Mac’s wrists above his head. It was hot and Mac groaned loudly, wondering if this was just a drunken dream since everything was kind of fuzzy anyway. Shifting, Jack changed his grip to hold both of Mac’s wrists with one hand and arranged himself on the mattress so that he was thrusting against Mac’s hip... but he didn’t touch Mac’s cock in any way at all.

In a distant way Mac’s brain noted that Jack chose his uninjured side to grind himself on, and it felt incredible even if he wasn’t getting any friction. But the thing Mac wanted—no, _needed_ —was friction, and he needed it _now_. He couldn’t move his hands... but he hooked his good leg over Jack’s waist, canting his hips so that Jack had no choice but to rub against him. Huffing out an amused sound, Jack leaned down and licked his way into Mac’s mouth again, devouring him as they slid against each other.

The way Jack kissed him blew Mac’s mind. His tongue was thrusting into his mouth in the rhythm of Jack’s hips grinding into him, and all of Mac’s senses were pretty much dominated by Jack. He kept moaning into the kiss and after a moment Jack pulled back, sliding his lips to his ear again. “God, you’re so desperate,” he muttered, and in response Mac just moaned, hips twitching up even harder. “And so fucking hot like that.” Stilling pinning down his wrists, Jack slid his free hand down Mac’s chest and wrapped his fingers around his cock, and started to stroke him rapidly. “Yeah, baby, scream for me,” Jack growled when Mac cried out, panting and staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. “You wanna come?”

“Yes, Jack! Please!” Mac shouted, and he loved the tight grip on his wrists, the way he couldn’t break it and didn’t want to. “Please make me come, please, I can’t—I need it, _please_.” Jack squeezed his cock and gave him one last twist and then Mac was coming harder than he had in his whole life, warmth exploding up his spine. He spilled over Jack’s fingers as he worked Mac through the aftershocks, letting go of his wrists, and as soon as he had a little bit of cognitive function back Mac grabbed at Jack’s hips and pulled him upward until he was almost straddling Mac’s face. “C’mon, wanna suck you.”

“Jesus, Mac,” Jack whispered, staring down at him with eyes full of lust. “You sure?” he asked, and Mac just licked his lips in response, pulling at Jack’s hips again, and that was apparently enough for Jack because he moved the rest of the way up and straddled Mac’s face. He gripped his cock, groaning a little, and then he lined himself up, the head of his cock brushing against Mac’s lips.

“You can choke me if you feel like it,” Mac said with a wink and without waiting for a reply he wrapped his lips around Jack’s cock.

“Remember what I told you about saying shit like that?” Jack moaned out, threading his fingers into Mac’s hair. The fingertips of the other hand traced the perfect O of suction Mac’s mouth made. “Oh baby, that feels so good,” he said as Mac let his throat relax. “Can I...?” Mac hummed his consent, and Jack tentatively rocked his hips forward, thrusting into the tight wet heat that Mac’s providing. Soon Mac’s lips were around the base of Jack’s cock, and he just breathed through his nose and took it, submitting to Jack completely and wondering if he’d take him up on the choking thing.

Jack’s eyes were glued to his face, wide and full of desire. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed out, and his hips twitched a little, pushing his cock even deeper into Mac’s throat, and Mac _loved_ it. Jack exhaled shakily and gripped the headboard with one hand while the other one was tangled in Mac’s hair, and he whimpered when Mac swirled his tongue and swallowed around his cock. He could tell Jack was holding back and he needed to do something about that, because god dammit, he really wanted Jack to get rough with him.

He got his hands on the outsides of Jack’s thighs and ran them upward, until he was gripping Jack’s hips. He pushed them back, until just the head of Jack’s cock was on his tongue. Then he pulled him forward again, moaning and letting his eyes flutter shut when he was forced to swallow around his length, relieved when Jack seemed to get the idea and repeated the motions on his own. And he was enjoying himself, if the way he threw his head back and moaned was any indication.

Mac just moaned around him again and he made a whining, desperate sound, and when Jack looked down at him again, something on his face... changed. His eyes seemed to grow even darker and he let out a deep groan as he tightened his grip on Mac’s hair... and thrust forward again, harder, pushing his cock deeper down Mac’s throat. “Fuck, baby,” he cursed, his hips moving again, and soon he was rocking steadily into Mac’s mouth, using his throat just like Mac hoped he would. “You’re taking it so well, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?” Mac moaned in response, hands twisting in the bedsheets as Jack roughly fucked his mouth. “Oh yeah, you like that? Choking on my cock?”

And then Jack paused on the next thrust in, keeping his cock deep inside, and Mac’s body actually jolted underneath Jack. Mac was so lost in what they were doing that he barely noticed when Jack’s fingers slipped off his face and moved lower, wrapping around his throat. However, when Jack squeezed Mac’s throat with his cock still lodged inside it he actually blacked out for a moment, not able to breathe. Jack’s grip slackened and he pulled back before thrusting forward again and squeezing too, timing his motions with when he choked off Mac’s air almost perfectly, his moans ratcheting higher each time he buried himself in Mac’s throat.

It felt... insanely good, and if he wasn’t so drunk Mac would definitely be getting it up again. He could tell Jack was close from how frantically his hips move and from the sounds he made, and then Jack squeezed his throat again and kept choking Mac as he rapidly thrust into his mouth a few more times, and just as Mac thought he was going to pass out, Jack let him breathe and came with a loud shout, his come flooding Mac’s mouth. Mac groaned and swallowed everything Jack gave him, except for a single drop that spilled from the corner of his lips and down his chin. He felt used and blissed out in the best possible way short of getting fucked, and he grunted when Jack sort of fell backward off of him, thankfully missing all his injuries and landing mostly on the mattress.

“That... was amazing,” Mac told him, voice absolutely wrecked between the alcohol and having a cock in his throat. “Why haven’t we been doing that forever?”

“No idea,” Jack muttered, sounding wrecked and out of breath. One of his legs was thrown across Mac’s chest and the way he was lying couldn’t be comfortable, but he seemed too spent to move.

“See, I knew sex was a good idea. But if that felt so spectacular, I’ll probably die when you finally fuck me,” Mac mused, staring at the ceiling and smirking a little when he heard Jack choking. Slowly, he tried to sit up, pushing Jack’s leg away, but as soon as he was upright the world spun around him, so he plopped back down on the mattress. “I’m still sooooo drunk,” he chuckled a little, feeling completely boneless and lighter than he had in months.

That seemed to startle Jack into alertness, and he sat up a lot faster than Mac did. He wiped the come off Mac’s stomach and then his chin with one of their discarded towels before he took Mac’s face in his hands and pulled him in for a kiss. He didn’t seem to mind the taste of himself on Mac’s lips in the slightest, but when he pulled back his eyes were full of concern. “Are you okay?” he asked softly. “I didn’t hurt you, right?”

“What?” Mac frowned. “Of course you didn’t. And I’m fantastic.” He smiled before wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck to pull him down for another kiss. “I gotta admit, you playing hard to get was fun, especially since I won.” He grinned against Jack’s mouth and nipped on his lower lip. He pulled Jack on top of him, ignoring the ache in his ribs, and since he really didn’t have a filter when he was this drunk (also, apparently he was a slut for Jack when he was drunk, there was no nicer way of putting it) he murmured into Jack’s mouth, “We should see how many times you can make me come when you’re fucking me.”

Jack spluttered a little against his mouth, which wasn’t the sexiest thing in the world, but Mac was willing to forgive him. He had his weight braced on his forearms and when he pushed up on them he loomed over Mac, rugged and stunning and somehow all his to enjoy. “I’m on board with that idea—for _tomorrow_ ,” Jack said firmly, and Mac had a feeling he wasn’t going to sway him this time. The doorbell rang, surprising them both, although Mac’s reaction of flailing and almost knocking them both off the bed was much more dramatic because even though some of the booze had been burned off by the shower and sex he was still pretty loaded. Jack got off the bed and yanked his jeans back on, leaning down to kiss Mac’s cheek. “I’ll be right back, and I’ll bring food with me.”

“You better,” Mac muttered, and when Jack raised his eyebrow on his way out, he elaborated: “Be right back.” His voice wound up being a little too vulnerable for his taste and Jack’s step faltered, a pained expression showing up on his face. “And you better get the food,” Mac added after a moment, trying to lift the mood. “I might’ve had a small snack—” he eyed Jack up and down with a lewd grin on his face “—but I’m still hungry.”

Jack rolled his eyes fondly and exited... but he left the door open so Mac could hear his footsteps. Something warm and spongy and vulnerable started spreading in his chest, and he realized exactly how much he loved Jack, for so many reasons. He heard him talk to the delivery guy and re-lock the front door, and a moment later he was back with several bags and a drink holder loaded with milkshakes. Whatever he saw on Mac’s face must’ve concerned him though, because he put the food down on the bed and used his hand to cup Mac’s cheek. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you alright, darlin’?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, I just—” Mac started, and then swallowed hard, blinking a few times to stop himself from tearing up. Slowly, he sat up and brushed his fingers against Jack’s beard, smiling a little at how nice it felt under his fingertips. “I just really love you? More than you know.”

Jack leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I love you too.” He pulled away to shuck off his jeans again and crawled in bed with Mac, spreading the food out around them. “You know what else I love? French fries.”

“That makes two of us,” Mac said solemnly, and they proceeded to absolutely destroy their entire McDonald’s order in about forty minutes. And Mac expected that from himself, but it was surprising to see Jack chowing down with such gusto. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Not sure,” Jack responded, making a face as he thought about it and licked ketchup off his thumb. “I think I had falafel like three days ago.”

For some reason in that moment Mac’s head snapped in Jack’s direction as he suddenly realized something. “Wait,” he started slowly, his brain trying to work despite the alcohol. “You’re back, so... that means the mission’s over, right? You found Kovacs?”

Jack nodded, his expression morphing into something grim. “Yeah, we found him. And I killed him, for real this time. I went straight to the cemetery from the airport—didn’t even have a chance to call Matty and tell her I’m back, though I suspect she already knows.” He sighed, relaxing back against the headboard. “I’m just glad it’s over, you know? Being away from you and everybody else was so damn hard.”

“I know the feeling,” Mac murmured, shifting so that he could snuggle up Jack’s side and he smiled when Jack’s arm instantly wrapped around him. He couldn’t believe how easy it was and how it felt like nothing changed between them—even though they were cuddling naked in bed, so everything changed. Jack was warm against him and Mac felt his eyes drop, feeling sleepy again, but he forced himself to stay awake. There was this... irrational fear inside him that when he woke up Jack would be gone, so he clung tightly to him, not wanting to risk it.

As if sensing what Mac was thinking (which at this point wouldn’t be surprising in the slightest), Jack gave him a careful squeeze and dropped a kiss on top of his head. “I love you,” he murmured, fingers stroking over Mac’s arm rhythmically. “Go to sleep if you’re tired, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Mac mumbled, letting his eyes slip shut, and he felt Jack slide them lower so that he was lying on his back with Mac half on top of him.

“Yeah, I promise,” Jack’s voice rumbled in Mac’s ear.

He cuddled up closer and sighed happily. “Good. Love you too,” he muttered, and then Jack hugged him again, and Mac let himself drift away.

~***~

In the morning, Mac was woken up by the sun piercing through his eyelids and a pounding headache. Other parts of him, like his ribs and his wounded arm and thigh, felt like they were on fire. Groaning in pain, he buried his face back against his pillow... his very warm, very naked pillow. It was breathing, and it had skin... oh god, what did he do? Who did he bring home? He took in a sharp breath through his nose and smelled leather and gunpowder, and some of last night snapped back into place. Jack was back, he dragged Mac out of the cemetery, and then... oh.

Oh _no_.

His eyes snapped open and widened in horror as he remembered everything that happened. He remembered everything Jack told him and how he promised to never leave, how he kissed him and told him he loved him... all of that was amazing, but what terrified Mac were the things _he_ told Jack. About being tired and wanting to end it, but more importantly... oh god, did he really beg Jack to fuck him? Repeatedly?

Jack shifted underneath him a little, and his hand slid up from where it rested on Mac’s hip to massage the back of his neck. Immediately some of the tension in his muscles eased, and when he dared to glance up at Jack’s face, he was smiling a little, eyes still shut. “Morning, sunshine,” Jack murmured, opening those gorgeous dark eyes, and they were full of nothing but affection. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” Mac mumbled, but his thoughts were racing. He swallowed hard as he remembered the shower and trying to get Jack to sleep with him even despite his protests... god, he was acting like a drunk slut and certainly moaning like one and then... Mac almost whimpered in shame when he remembered asking Jack to _choke_ him... and then writhing underneath him, again a drunk slut. He felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment and he hid his face in Jack’s chest, afraid of what he may say.

Jack’s fingers continued to work on his neck and the base of his skull, and then they climbed higher still, sifting through Mac’s hair (which was now dry and clean for the first time in too long) and scratching his nails over his scalp. “Not surprising considering how drunk you were when I found you,” Jack mused, and Mac braced for a comment on his behavior, but... it didn’t come? “I’m just glad you didn’t decide to wake up and puke on me in the middle of the night. You know how I hate getting vomited on, man.”

Mac did know that, but he didn’t say anything, too horrified by how he acted. Not only did he reveal how codependent and clingy he was, but he also basically begged Jack for sex, _many times_. “Jack, I’m... I’m so sorry,” he whispered, hoping Jack didn’t think too badly of him.

Jack shifted again, but this time it was to use his grip on Mac to tug him up so he was sprawled across Jack’s body and they were face-to-face. “Sorry for what?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing as a frown pulled his mouth down. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Mac.”

Mac snorted before he could stop himself, but it was followed closely by a sound that was almost a sob. “Besides beg you for sex and act like a slut, you mean.”

Jack sighed, but when Mac glanced at him there was a small fond smile on his face, much to his surprise. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with being a little slutty, darlin’. It was cute, although I’m sure cute’s not the vibe you were going for last night.” He chuckled a little, but when Mac still refused to look at him, Jack’s fingers gripped his chin to tilt his head up. “Baby, it’s fine, really. Just wait until I get wasted, I’ll be writing poems about your ass, especially now when I know I’m allowed to admire it.” The smile on Jack’s face grew wider. “You were an imp, I admit that. But I enjoyed it, as you can probably remember.”

Mac did remember that, and a whole lot more. And he felt a little better now that he knew Jack wasn’t judging him for how he acted. “Poems about my ass, huh?” he asked, smiling a little in return and laughing when Jack’s other hand slid down to grope the aforementioned body part. He sobered quickly when he thought of something else. “I know I kept... pushing you, even though you said no to sex at first. I have a feeling you were trying to be responsible and not... take advantage of me or something, but I wouldn’t listen. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, baby,” Jack said with a grin. “I did try to be responsible, but I realized pretty quickly I had to give you something or you wouldn’t stop. You’re pretty convincing, you know.” Smiling, he pulled Mac down for a kiss, his hand still squeezing his ass. “Also very hard to resist, especially when you kept talking about me fucking you.”

Mac shivered at those words, and again when Jack nipped his bottom lip playfully. He loved kissing Jack, especially when they were pressed this close together. “I’d still like that to happen,” he informed Jack, “but a large portion of my body might have other ideas.”

Jack hummed contemplatively, and Mac found himself being moved again. This time Jack sat up and hung on to Mac, bringing him up too so he was straddling Jack’s lap. “I think we can find a way to make it happen,” he said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and leaned in to mouth at Mac’s jaw.

Mac exhaled shakily and wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck to pull him closer. “Oh, Jack,” he moaned softly when Jack’s teeth scraped at his jaw before his lips moved lower to suck a bruise into the side of his neck. “Who’s... who’s the imp now?”

“Still you,” Jack muttered, and Mac felt him smile. Both of his hands slid down Mac’s back to his ass and gripped it firmly as he moved to nip on Mac’s throat.

Mac moved his hands too after a moment, exploring the broad expanse of Jack’s shoulders, appreciating the feel of his muscles and skin in a way he couldn’t when he was drunk. Jack’s teeth scraped over the birthmark near Mac’s jaw before moving lower still, sinking into the muscle between his neck and shoulder. Mac sucked in a harsh breath and chewed the inside of his cheek, nails raking down the front of Jack’s chest before his fingers tweaked at one of his nipples. Jack groaned deeply against Mac’s skin, one of his hands sliding up his spine to tangle in his hair.

The other one was still on Mac’s ass and after a moment Jack continued exploring Mac’s skin with his mouth, nipping at his collarbone. His fingers dug into his ass cheek and Mac couldn’t help but moan, his hips twitching. Since they were already naked, it didn’t take much friction for them both to start getting hard, and soon they were rocking against each other in earnest. Jack was leaving a necklace of bruises around Mac’s throat and he loved it, a lightning bolt of pleasure shooting down his spine when Jack tugged his hair.

“Jack, please,” Mac moaned out, sliding his hands up to hold Jack’s jaw, pulling him up for a real kiss. “There’s lube in the drawer, please, I need you.”

“Oh god, baby,” Jack groaned into Mac’s mouth, kissing him for a few seconds before taking the hand from his ass to reach for the nightstand. He quickly found the lube in the drawer and Mac shivered when he heard him open it and a moment later one of Jack’s fingers was teasingly rubbing his hole in circles before pushing inside.

Mac couldn’t help the sound he made, a choked-off whimper that had him burying his face in Jack’s neck to hide his burning cheeks. He knew he made sounds like that and much worse the night before, but now that he wasn’t drunk he found them much more embarrassing. “Feels good,” he whispered in Jack’s ear, as that finger slid in and out of him for a moment before it was joined by a second one. “Oh god, Jack,” he gasped when Jack scissored his fingers before pushing them even deeper. He moaned softly and rolled his hips a little, needing more, and then he couldn’t stop himself for crying out when those fingers nudged his prostate.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so gorgeous,” Jack murmured, nipping on Mac’s earlobe and brushing against his prostate again before adding a third finger.

Mac whined high in his throat when he felt how those three fingers stretch him, loved the pressure against his prostate and the way Jack kept teasing at sensitive skin with his mouth. “Jack, I’m ready,” he gasped out, rolling his hips back against those digits at a steady pace now, his cock rock hard and leaking. “Please fuck me.”

“So beautiful,” Jack mumbled, and then he pulled his fingers out.

Mac whined again, but also shivered in anticipation, already knowing how big Jack’s cock and he needed to know how it felt inside him now. He saw Jack reach for the nightstand again and he grabbed his wrist. “We don’t need that. I’m clean.”

“Me too,” Jack replied, his eyebrows rising. “But are you sure?”

“Very,” Mac told him, and shifted up on his knees, moaning when Jack lubed himself up and then carefully positioned the head of his cock against Mac’s hole. Just the first couple of inches were enough to have him shaking, and while he could go slow and steady... he didn’t. Instead he dropped his weight against Jack’s cock and almost screamed when it was completely inside him, the stretch of it burning in the best possible way and the fullness intense like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

“Jesus, Mac!” Jack groaned loudly, throwing his head back, his hands gripping Mac’s hips tightly. “You’re going to kill—oh sweet lord.”

Mac started moving almost right away, rolling his hips a little, arms wrapped around Jack’s neck. “I’ve wanted... this for years,” he gasped. “Wasn’t gonna go slow.” With that he raised himself up and dropped down again, taking Jack’s cock in even deeper.

The only warning Mac got that Jack was going to do something nefarious was the smirk that curled his mouth upward. Those hands on his hips clamped down on Mac even tighter, so that once he’d taken Jack in completely he couldn’t move. “Well I’ve wanted this for years too,” Jack said, as casually as if they were talking about the weather, only a little strain in his voice. “And what if I want to go slow?”

He tried to move but Jack was too strong, and that made Mac moan in frustration. He ignored how much more turned on he was by Jack holding him down so easily and he gaped at Jack. “Seriously?” he whined, and Jack’s smirk grew wider.

“What? You were a menace last night, it’s my turn.” Not loosening his grip, he leaned closer to whisper in Mac’s ear: “If I could, I’d toss you on the mattress and fuck for hours.”

That stoked the already-burning fire in Mac’s gut, and he gripped Jack’s shoulders tightly. He used the leverage he had to roll them over, so he was flat on his back and Jack was on top of him, between his legs. It was Jack’s turn to gape at him like a dying fish, although they both moaned a split second later when the change in position shoved him impossibly deeper inside Mac. Mac, who raised his eyebrows challengingly and hooked his good leg around Jack’s waist. “Then why don’t you do that, big guy?”

“You’re...” Jack started, and then cleared his throat. “What about your ribs?” he asked, his voice strained, and well, a bomb could go off in Mac’s house and he wouldn’t care, so his ribs were the least of his concerns.

“Screw that, I’ll be fine,” he said, moaning when Jack shifted a little. “Now, how about you finally fuck me like we both want to?”

“If you want me to stop, you tell me, okay?” Jack asked, his tone serious. When Mac nodded, Jack leaned down to kiss him, and it was surprisingly soft and sweet given their positioning. He took his hands off Mac’s hips and braced his weight on his forearms, then drew his own hips back before thrusting forward in a smooth quick glide that had Mac trembling instantly.

Jack set up a steady pace that had Mac moaning with every thrust, hands clawing at Jack’s back. “Oh, oh, _Jack_ ,” he cried out when Jack’s cock hit his prostate, and then Jack buried his face in his face with a growl... and started thrusting into him faster. The slam of his hips was also getting harder and deeper, knocking the air out of Mac’s lungs, and Mac could only gasp and moan as Jack pounded into him, not holding back.

It was so good, it was the best sex Mac had ever had, every nerve ending in his body lighting up like it was Christmas. He knew then that he never wanted anything or anyone else, that Jack was it for him, but he couldn’t get the breath to say the words. That didn’t matter, though, because from the sounds Jack was trying to muffle against his throat he felt exactly the same way. And just when Mac felt himself reaching his peak, knows his orgasm was about to crash into him like a tsunami... Jack stilled completely before starting up again with shallow, teasing thrusts that felt good but didn’t satisfy.

Mac sucked in a harsh breath, letting out a loud groan. “ _Jack_ ,” he growled in frustration, scratching Jack’s back with his nails and using the leg he had around him for leverage, trying to thrust up. “What’s wrong?”

Jack muttered against his throat. “Told you, baby, I wanted to fuck you for hours. I’m just gettin’ started.”

“Well, I recall telling you we should see how many times you can make me come,” Mac gasped out when Jack thrust into him harder before stilling again.

“I think I know the answer to that question already,” Jack said lowly, biting at his jaw before he started thrusting again in earnest.

“Oh yeah?” Mac couldn’t control the way his voice quaked in time with Jack striking his prostate. “How many?”

“As many as I want,” Jack whispered right against his ear, slamming his hips forward at the same time that he brought one hand down to Mac’s cock, just wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing. And sure enough, that made Mac come with a shout of Jack’s name, his hips pushing up toward Jack’s hand as he milked him dry. Jack let go of his cock a moment later and wiped it on the bedsheet before sliding his arm under Mac’s back. “That’s one,” he whispered into Mac’s ear, biting on the earlobe as his hips started moving again. Mac was panting and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling as Jack slowly rocked into him, his lips pressed to his ear. “Another question is... how much can you take?”

“Are we... seriously making sex competitive like we do basketball?” Mac managed to get out, sliding his hands down Jack’s back to grope his ass. “Because I’m okay with that, but I like to know what’s going on.”

Jack chuckled roughly, and he used the hand he just cleaned off to thread through Mac’s hair, pulling his head back and sending little lovely pains through his scalp. “I’d say we are, at least this morning,” Jack told him, and then gasped against Mac’s cheek when he felt his dry fingers running over his entrance.

“Mhmm, maybe one day you’ll let me have my fun with this,” Mac murmured, putting more pressure on Jack’s entrance before sliding his hands back up to Jack’s shoulders, loving the high pitched whine Jack let out. “But for now... bring it on, big guy,” he said, moaning when Jack growled and pulled on his hair tighter and sinking his teeth in Mac’s neck.

At the same time his hips sped up a little and Mac made a choking sound when Jack cock brushed against his prostate again. “Yeah, you like that?” Jack panted against his neck, angling his hips and hitting that sweet spot again. “I’m going to fuck you until you completely fall apart and the only word you know is my name.”

Mac didn’t want to admit it, but he could see where that might be a possibility. He was getting hard again, his cock twitching, and he felt warmth building in his lower back. “Jack, harder,” he gasped out, whining when Jack’s response to that was to slow down. “C’mon, give it to me, _shit_.”

“I didn’t hear a please in there,” Jack said, rocking his hips at a glacial pace... but his cock was getting in deeper each time.

“Jack,” Mac groaned, once again trying to use his grip on him to fuck himself on Jack’s cock, but in their current position it was almost impossible and he was completely at Jack’s mercy.

“One more word, baby,” Jack muttered, grinding slowly into him and lazily sucking a bruise below his jaw.

If Mac had to guess he’d say Jack was running out of spots to mark since he’d been at it for a while, but he was definitely not complaining. “Please, Jack, please, harder,” he whimpered, giving in.

When Jack looked up, he was smirking wolfishly. “See, was that so hard?” he murmured... and then he drew his hips back until only the head of his cock was buried in Mac and slammed back inside.

Mac screamed a garbled version of Jack’s name that only got louder the more Jack pounded into him. He was overstimulated and overwhelmed and suddenly he was coming again, heat bursting through him as he went limp underneath Jack. His breathing came in heaving gasps and he felt sweaty and tingly all over... and Jack was _still_ fucking him, and Mac knew he wouldn’t stop unless Mac told him to. Both of his arms and his leg slid down from Jack’s body since Mac wasn’t able to keep his limbs wrapped around him anymore. Jack didn’t seem to mind and kept thrusting, still rock hard inside Mac, and Mac was pretty sure this was going to kill him. “J-Jack, Jack,” he sobbed, gasping and whimpering with every thrust, Jack’s hips pushing into him like a well-oiled machine.

“Do you wanna stop?” Jack asked a moment later, his breath hot in Mac’s ear. When Mac didn’t reply, only whimpered again, Jack huffed and pounded into him harder, one of his hands sliding up Mac’s chest. “I said,” Jack growled, wrapping his fingers around Mac’s throat and squeezing tightly, “do you wanna stop?”

Mac’s eyes rolled back in his head as Jack choked off his air, and when he could breathe again he said, “One more, I can do one more.”

“Good boy,” Jack said, his voice rasping as it vibrated out of his chest, and those words made Mac’s whole body twitch on Jack’s cock. “You’re so good for me, aren’t you?” When Mac nodded, Jack squeezed his throat again and kept up his brutal, punishing pace, chasing his own release now too. Jack cut off his air for longer periods of time with every squeeze and at this point Mac could only lie limply underneath him and let Jack take whatever he wanted from him. “That’s right, you’re so good, so tight for me, baby,” Jack muttered in his ear, and then he tightened his grip on Mac’s throat again and pounded into him particularly hard, grunting with every thrust, and then Mac came for the third time, the scream he let out muffled by Jack’s hand.

He arched in pleasure, but Jack used his grip on his throat to pin him back down, and then continued to fuck him so brutally that Mac was barely holding on. There were black spots dancing in his vision and he was barely conscious, but he was aware of Jack panting into his neck and his moaned getting higher, and after a moment he came with a loud groan, biting down on Mac’s neck. His hips kept moving, pumping his come into Mac, and his pulsing cock was the last thing Mac registered before everything went black.

~***~

Mac had no way of knowing how long he was unconscious, but the first thing he was aware of was that Jack’s weight was no longer on top of him. The second thing that came back was his hearing, and he realized Jack was talking right next to his ear as he stroked his fingers through Mac’s hair. “Come on, darlin’, wake up for me? You’re scaring me shitless right about now and my poor old heart can’t take it.”

“You’re not old,” Mac mumbled, and finally pried his eyes open. He was cleaned off with a damp washcloth and his head was pillowed against Jack’s thigh. “Don’t know how you could say that considering you made me come three times in a row.”

“Oh thank god,” Jack breathed out, and leaned down to kiss Mac’s cheek. Now that Mac focused, he saw the worry in Jack’s eyes, though it was slowly starting to disappear. “By the looks of it, I fucked that brilliant brain of yours straight outta your head. And while I feel very good about myself and that I still got it... are you okay, baby?” Jack asked softly, still gently combing through Mac’s hair. “I nearly had a heart attack when I lifted my head and saw you were out.”

“I may never walk again,” Mac said solemnly... and then he started to giggle, he couldn’t help it. When Jack pinched his hip to get him to be serious—and it was crazy how Mac _knew_ that was what Jack wanted from one tiny gesture—he pulled Jack down for a real kiss. “I’m good, Jack, I promise. Don’t expect me to move for a while, but I would tell you if something was wrong.”

He felt Jack relax and then he gently shifted Mac, so that his head was no longer resting on his thigh. He instantly laid down on his back and pulled Mac in his arms, hugging him close and kissing the top of his hair. “I love you so much,” he whispered, one of his hands slowly stroking down Mac’s side. “That was... out of this world.”

“I love you too... and it really was,” Mac agreed, flopping one arm over Jack’s waist and hissing a little when he realized it was the one with the bullet wound. Now that he wasn’t off his ass or in the throes of passion, the damage to his body was making itself known again. “I don’t suppose you got my painkillers while you were in the bathroom?”

“Yep, and I brought water,” Jack said, helping Mac sit up so he could take a pill before snuggling back into Jack’s embrace, sighing when he pulled the covers up around them. “Hey, Mac? You know I meant everything I said last night, right? M’not going anywhere without you again.”

“I know,” Mac whispered, nuzzling Jack’s collarbone. “I believe you,” he added, because he remembered being reluctant while drunk and asking Jack to tell him again.

“Good,” Jack whispered back, squeezing him gently. “We’re a package deal, baby. Which is something we’ve always been and I’m so sorry I temporarily forgot.”

That made Mac smile, and he tilted his head back so Jack got to see it. “That’s okay,” he said, and leaned up to kiss Jack’s cheek. Then he stared into that handsome face and hugged Jack tight, wondering if this was what forever felt like. “I think I can forgive you.”


End file.
